


Game On

by Rhysanoodle



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Festivals, M/M, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 12:43:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15751902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhysanoodle/pseuds/Rhysanoodle
Summary: Shameless Chaorian smut at a music festival





	Game On

“I look ridiculous,” Chaol groaned. **  
**

Perched atop his shoulders, Dorian couldn’t quite see his face, but he could tell his boyfriend was blushing.

“It’s just a flower crown. Live a little! It’s not like you’re the only one here sporting one.” Dorian gestured to the tightly packed crowd, all patiently waiting for the headlining act to come on stage.

It was the second-to-last night of Rifthold City Limits, but their favorite band, The Three Keys, was closing on the main stage tonight, and they’d been hovering nearby all day, idly drinking their cares away under the sun and casually enjoying some of the smaller bands as they attempted to sidle closer to the stage.

Aelin had never revealed how she’d managed to get her hands on six tickets to the already sold-out festival, but when she’d invited Dorian and Chaol to join herself, Rowan, Aedion, and Lysandra for a long weekend of drinking, partying, and camping out at the edge of the fairgrounds, they’d jumped at the opportunity.

Indeed, Aelin grinned wickedly at him from beside them on Rowan’s shoulders, the tiny female having perched there as much as he’d let her, always otherwise complaining loudly that she couldn’t see past all the “gigantic frat bros” crowded in front of her.

Dorian had joined her above the sea of people during the last act, caught up in the frenzy of the music and secretly wanting to play with Chaol’s hair. It didn’t help that his legs, mostly bare due to the cutoff jean shorts which barely covered his backside, were constantly brushing up against the sensitive, tantalizing skin of Chaol’s neck. 

Even after months of being together, Dorian still got goosebumps at the lightest brushes against each other, still always tried to plot out the path of least resistance to a bathroom, a broom closet, any darkened alcove where he could drag Chaol when he lost all control of his urges.

Chaol seemed to be of the same mindset right now, as he nuzzled at Dorian’s thighs, occasionally nipping and biting.

“Hey. Stop it.” He swatted at Chaol’s head, not deterring his boyfriend in the least. “You know these are the only bottoms I brought. How am I supposed to hide these marks tomorrow?”

Chaol tipped his head back and gave Dorian an innocent shrug paired with an attempt at a puppy dog face before nonchalantly switching over to the other thigh.

Dorian whipped his head around to Aelin, as apparently The Three Keys had just come onto stage and everyone in the crowd started going wild. None of his friends were looking at this ridiculous display, thankfully. He too started cheering, raising his hands above his head.

When it became apparent that Chaol had no desire to let up anytime soon, Dorian dismounted, not sure his dignity would survive through the next day if he allowed this to continue.

Settling into the crook in Chaol’s chest, once his feet were firmly on the ground, he was content to let the magnificent, muscular arms, sporting a tattoo of an eagle which Dorian loved to marvel at, wrap around his waist and let the music annihilate him.

Three songs in, the same sumptuous arms began to roam, idly at first, tracing lazy circles around his stomach, now slightly exposed. But then, they moved to his thighs, his thumbs deliberately tracing the bite marks, pausing when they arrived at the hem of his shorts, letting his fingers slip in just a tad as he circled around Dorian’s leg to his backside.

Chaol’s right hand explored unabashedly, letting Dorian know exactly where he wished to pleasure him further, while his left arm wrapped firmly around his waist, pinning him against Chaol, not letting him wriggle away. Though where Dorian would escape to in this sea of bodies, he had no idea.

As Chaol’s finger circled around the entrance Dorian dreamed he would delve further into, despite the multiple sets of of fabric between them, Dorian couldn’t help but feel all his blood rush to his core, hardening instantly at the suggestive motion.

Ever so tantalizingly, Chaol returned his hand to Dorian’s front, murmuring his approval at the surprise he now found waiting for him.

Mother above. There was no way he was going to miss the rest of the set, but Dorian was truly torn as a primal part of him wished they could just teleport back to their tent. He glanced around warily, but the crowd, their friends included, were so mesmerized by the music that nobody was paying Dorian and Chaol a lick of attention.

“Not now,” he growled, unsure of how much longer he could endure this torture, but Chaol was unphased, pretending he hadn’t even heard Dorian over the clash of the music.

His hands resumed their roaming, enjoying a medley of thighs and sometimes venturing up to cup Dorian’s balls through the fabric, tauntingly stroking him through the already somewhat damp shorts.

Dorian had already thought he was about to combust, but the moment he felt the evidence of how much his boyfriend was really enjoying this moment poke against his backside, he caught fire and began to burn.

He made to whirl on Chaol, not caring that they were still in the middle of a crowd, not minding that there were likely still a few songs left in the set, not giving two shits that he’d been looking forward to singing at the top of his lungs to his favorite one. 

No. He needed the taste of Chaol on his lips, needed to run his fingers through the wisps of hair on the nape of his neck, needed to yield his own body completely.  


The arm around his waist tightened, sensing his intentions and pinning him in place, firmly pressing his abdomen against Dorian, letting him feel every sweaty, muscular inch of his boyfriend.

Unable to endure this sexual agony any longer without Chaol feeling its reciprocation, he began frantically grinding against the length of Chaol’s member, urging him onward and hoping to provoke a reaction from his lover.

After putting up with it for a minute and unleashing a few beleaguered groans into Dorian’s ears, a firm pair of hands gripped Dorian’s hips, and a husky voice murmured just loudly enough for him to hear, “Your move.”

Oh gods.

It had started a few weeks ago. Silly things really. One day Dorian had texted some nude photos to Chaol while he was in an important meeting, causing him to blow a gasket. The next evening, Chaol had taken him in the middle of the night in their apartment complex’s pool. 

It had become a game, to see how and when they could surprise each other, the more public the better.

The only rule was to try to be discreet enough not to get caught. Chaol must’ve been planning this for ages, knowing that in the midst of the drunken crowd, in the evening, caught up in the madness of the festival, nobody would turn an eye to them. It was the perfect move, and Dorian was only upset that he hadn’t thought of it himself.

The encore had just begun, and Chaol had been planning a grand finale of his own, his hand sinking into the waistband of Dorian’s shorts, having popped off the button in his haste.

The other hand massaged his balls from below, as Chaol handily stroked from above, his thumb resting on the head and eliciting a euphoria Dorian had never known before, the energy of those dancing around him merging with his sexual pleasure in an unheard of sense of exhilaration.

Dorian tipped his head back, letting it rest in the crook of Chaol’s neck as he struggled to keep himself upright when Chaol grabbed one of his earlobes in his teeth and tugged.

Glad the music was drowning out any noise he could’ve possibly made, Dorian let out a strangled moan as Chaol matched his pace to the rhythm of the music, and Dorian turned to putty in his hands. Shockwaves rippled through him as he erupted during the final verse, fully unable to move as Chaol lightly continued to tease him.

The crowd exploded in a frenzy of cheers and chants, but all Dorian could focus on was the hand that Chaol casually slipped out of his pants as he lifted it to his mouth and succulently began to suck all of his fingers clean. He paused before the last one though, raising it to Dorian’s mouth and asking, “Want a taste?”

Dorian knew he didn’t really have a choice here, still held in Chaol’s thrall. He eagerly accepted the finger, ravenously sucking at it and flicking at it with his tongue — a preview, he’d decided, to the hell he was going to unleash on Chaol when they returned to their tent.

It was his turn. He certainly wished Chaol good luck with keeping his mouth shut tonight, as Dorian planned to worship his body whilst their best friends were only feet away from them, separated by a few measly scraps of fabric. It would be the true test of his will power, and Dorian couldn’t wait.

**Author's Note:**

> All characters are the property of Sarah J. Maas


End file.
